


scent

by RagingBisexual



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Sweet, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBisexual/pseuds/RagingBisexual
Summary: canon based vignettes that follow betty and jughead's early relationship





	1. falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Browneyesparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/gifts).

> leave canon requests based in seasons 1 and 2! ok love you all <3
> 
> -also i gifted this to quite possibly my favorite author of bughead fanfic so pls go check them out to fuel your bughead fanfic needs if you like :)

scent

/sent/

noun- a distinctive smell, especially one that is pleasant

When Jughead Jones was thirteen, him and his seven year old sister went to Riverdale's local fall festival. It was the first time that Jellybean was able to go out alone with neither Gladys nor FP (mostly because one was out of her mind and the other was too drunk to protest) but the little girl had stars in her eyes at the prospect. Jughead wasn't stupid as to their "situation" which then not only involved just his parent's marriage, but both parents themselves. FP was an alcoholic who owned a bar and Gladys was coping as best she could with an unstable husband who had gallons of liquor at his disposal. Which left Jellybean, still a kid, a little one at that. Jughead would be damned if she was robbed of her childhood because his parents couldn't function like adults.

He can still remember it-

_She's picked out a pair of overalls and an over sized t-shirt already, but decides that since they're going to the Northside of town she wants to wear something a little different. Jughead doesn't have the heart to tell her that their money can't buy much else 'different' from the thrifted clothes they both wear. So instead he sneaks into his Mom's narrow closet and rummages around until he pulls out a thin piece of printed red fabric. It's a bandanna, and he thinks he can remember an old photo from a family album in which Gladys wore it in high school. He brings it back to her and her eyes, the same light blue as his, study it before a big grin breaks out and shows her few missing teeth. (FP and Gladys weren't there to see that she had recently lost those, too, and Jughead was left to pull of the ‘tooth fairy’ act all alone. Her smile really was worth a lot.) He braids her hair like he quickly learned how to with instruction from his little sister, and he's actually really good at it. Jellybean teases him about his ‘talent’, and he pretends to be embarrassed because he knows she gets a kick out of it. And once her dirty blonde hair is in two thick plaits, he ties the red bandanna around them in a small knot. She's happy, and so he is too. _

_After a short walk across town, they reach the fairgrounds. They can smell the greasy food trucks and smoky fire pits long before they get to the booth to pay for their tickets. It comes down to pennies, but they have more than enough (3 cents more, to be exact) for the both of them to get unlimited ride passes. That night was spent without worries, all of those pushed down beneath the cotton candy and tilt-a-whirl rides that left both Jughead and his sister sick to their stomachs in a somehow pleasant way. Her gapped smile seemed to never leave her face that night. ‘It was far from enough’ he had thought. But it was a start, a start at what his baby sister really deserved. _

It’s September 12th, 2017 when that memory comes back to bug a 15 year old Jughead. The fall festival had been the night before, and the smoky sweet smell tended to stick around days after the fair had left. He took a deep breath through his nose, and it made him feel warm in a weird, very not Jughead way. Maybe it was because it made him think of his little joyful sister, who tended to be one of the few who could really get through to him. He’s walking to school, every step making his sore legs and body ache. Sleeping on cold concrete, even with a sleeping bag, has definitely presented its consequences to him. As did sleeping and living in the same house as his trainwreck of a father. Those memories, at the least, have helped him appreciate the projection booth of the Twilight Drive-In (his home away from home) , especially in comparison to the hell hole that is his trailer at Sunnyside. The painful stretch of his muscles push those thoughts away as he keeps walking toward Elm Street. He used to chalk up his discomfort to growing pains of sorts, but he’s almost sure that it’s from shivering all night. Fall had come quick and brutal for Riverdale and there’s no way to stay warm in a cement room lacking insulation.

He’s strangely enough on his way to drive to school with Betty. Betty Cooper. The pretty (objectively, of course, as Jughead was nothing but a friend and an observer) blonde girl with big hazel green eyes that shone as exquisitely as you could imagine and had these little golden flecks in them. So yes, Jughead had observed her pretty carefully, seeing as he had known her since Archie’s 4th birthday. Back when she would wear smoothed pigtails and fluorescent cotton skirts, both of which bounced with her everywhere she went. On her exterior, not much had changed.

The reason him and Betty remaining close (dare he say getting closer) shocks him is because of the shit show that went down between him and Archie. At first glance, one would think that a fall out between Archie and Jughead would have no impact on Betty and Jughead’s friendship. But they were in highschool and everything suddenly went deeper than it was when they were all playing in the sandbox together. Elizabeth Cooper had an insane amount of loyalty to both boys, and suddenly she was being but in a position where they were at a crossroads. One might say a test of loyalty to one, or the other, or both. Jughead was certain that when it came time for her to pick sides and help one of them out, it would be Archie. Because Betty, at the time of this dreaded fall out, was still dead set on her highschool sweetheart “Mrs. Archie Andrews” fantasy that had been going on since, as far as Riverdale could be concerned, the dawn of time. Dating back to when all three musketeers were eight years young, and Archie asked Betty to marry him as a foolish little boy would. Jughead swore shit like Betty and Archie only happened in the movies, and it turns out he was right. Because after seven years of desperate pining and hoping and wishing, Archie does turn her down. Archie does move on with a sexy, mysterious, and confident girl who is just about the opposite of Betty Cooper.

The part that really shocked him was that Betty gave up on that fantasy the moment Archie said he had. She cried briefly, kept to herself, all the while maintaining her perfect Cooper daughter complex that has almost become a second nature to her natural instincts and emotions. And whilst she is building back up to the bubbly and happy Betty everyone saw on the first day, she recruits Jughead to help her revive the long dead and dusty Blue and Gold school paper. She tells him his work is good, that she’s read it, and that might’ve been the first time since his Mom bolt and ran that he felt his stomach flip in that oddly nice way. He blushes and acts skeptical, partially because he knows his indifferent writer act amuses Betty and partially because he wants to see if she’ll push on his agreement. If she really needs him or if she’s trying to fill an Archie sized hole in her heart. It ends with her shiny smile and his compliance, grinning at her.

And his agreement to the school paper is exactly why he’s walking to her big white house on Elm Street , the one right across from Archie’s, his good friend turned ex friend turned second chance at a best friend. Since him and Archie have decided to put their passive feud behind themselves, things between all three of them (and the new girl Veronica) have felt less strained. Simpler. Innocent in a time of such horror in Riverdale.

He reaches her nicely paved street, noticing how it hasn’t been eroded and broken up like the roads around the Southside are. Walking up her driveway and to her wooden door, he rings the doorbell and fixes his hat and hair. God forbid Alice is on the other side to tell him how sleazy he looks today. He hears the scuff of shoes toward the door, and as it swings open, is greeted by Betty and thankfully not her psycho mother. She gives him her usual closed lipped smile and then, to his surprise, hugs him from the side. And while Jughead’s never been a touchy feely person, he returns the gesture because it feels nice in a weird way. In a “you touching me is very unnerving but you also smell and feel good and I like this” type of way.

“Hello to my favorite tortured poet. You look especially disturbed today.” She says the words so sweetly and he knows that they’re a joke, but even if they weren’t she would be the first to get a pass from him. He just gives her a side eyes and keeps his dopey smile on his face, swatting her shoulder as she pulls the car keys from the pockets of her light blue skinny jeans. She’s wearing one of her fitted v-necks sweaters today, a pink so light it’s pretty much white. He tries and fails to not notice her body and how good it looks in the shirt, or how good it’d look without the shirt, and he tells himself to shut up because he almost never thinks of these things. Appearance has never meant a grain of salt compared to Betty’s wit and unbelievably kind heart. (And whatever other things that were brewing below the surface, because the truth that she was more than the girl she pretended to be for the rest of the world interested him.) He was glad that he, at the very least, was one of the few who got glimpses into the girl behind the scalp numbing ponytail and buttoned up shirts.

By the time she’s opened the car door and he’s getting seated, she’s already putting two coffees in the cup holders and turning the car keys smoothly. It’s clear that Betty Cooper never fails to be prepared. Her hair is in a lower ponytail today, sitting straight back from her ears with hair falling out of her updo and framing her face. Jughead thinks she seems more comfortable like this, and while he’s not one to make judgements on others physical appearance, he likes it. She looks more at ease, not trying so hard to be put together at all times. Her profile is showcasing her long eyelashes and rounded nose, the light catching the high points of her face. “She’s ethereal like this” is all Jughead can think. But she turns her face to look him eye to eye and suddenly Jughead feels less like he’s waxing mental poetry about her beauty and more like a complete fucking creep. Betty just smiles.

“Juggie, you haven’t said a word all morning? What’s up?” she worries over him, bringing a soft and cool hand to his shoulder. He shakes himself awake comically and gives her a wince of a smile. “Sorry Betts, I’m just tired as always. You know how it is, staying up late at night to brood and facing the consequences in the morning.” His words drip with sarcasm, as she’s likely used to from all these years. He’s sure she believes him because her mouth quirks up in that amused half smile she gives him when he’s being ridiculous but in a good way. “As one does,” she counters back, taking one of her glossy nails and tapping the tip of his nose with it. He scrunches it up playfully in protest, a smile breaking out across his face. And for one moment, him and Betty comfortably share the silence that follows their banter. Things like this have started to happen more and more, where they’ll playfully touch one another and suddenly realize how close they are. In the past, Betty and him would’ve moved apart out of respect for one another, but recently they seem to just lean in and stare into one another’s eyes without any words. Jughead thinks about it and suddenly realizes that it’s probably obnoxious to any outsiders and they must look like characters out of John Green novels (which he dislikes with a passion but Betty happens to have a guilty pleasure for.)

On the way to school, him and Betty talk about nothing and everything. She teases him and he gives back his usual sarcastic answers, and though they’ve been doing this with one another for forever banter with Betty always seems to make his stomach flip. They pull into the parking lot and decide to just finish their coffees in the car, turning sideways in their seats so their knees bump between the stick shift. They jokingly clink their cups and lean closer as they start drinking, talking in between. Somewhere in between sips, Betty reaches out and pushes some of Jughead’s hair escaping his beanie to the side. Her soft hand brushes his forehead, making his face burn in a strangely nice way, and he hopes he can attribute the pink of his cheeks to the warm coffee.

“I didn’t realize your hair was so long Jug. And curly too. When’s the last time you’ve had it cut?” she asks, tugging on the curls and stretching them to their full length. He’s stumped on her question for a second, at first because Betty touching any part of him makes him go blank with any logical thoughts. But then, once he actually processes her words and not just how nice her playing with his hair felt, he realizes that he doesn’t know the last time he got his hair cut. His hair was always more overgrown than Archie’s or Reggie’s or any other boy his age, not to complement his look of doing everything differently, but more so because he could never pay for a haircut. He looks up as if trying to rack his brain before simply shrugging, because words are too hard to form when a pretty girl is playing with his hair anyway. “Does it look bad?” he says softly with his usual joking tone, a tight lipped smile on his face. “No, actually, not at all. I just never realized the hair you had under that hat. It’s really soft and fluffy up close.” She says it as if she’s marvelling over something fantastic and not just Jughead’s hair, but he has absolutely no objections (literally ever so long as Betty keeps touching him). He just leans into her touch and breathes in animatedly before saying “I’m actually not bald, believe it or not” which earns a chuckle out of Betty.

Jughead’s never realized that Betty smells of something very distinct, that smell always in the back of his brain yet somehow indescribable. There’s the sweet perfume, masking what he thinks might be hairspray or laundry detergent, something chemical mixed in with the newspaper and ink.

He thinks that this might be the highlight of his life, which would be sad in retrospect but with the shit he’s been thrown left and right, he’ll take it. He’ll take Betty Cooper and the sweet smells she brings into his life.


	2. apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based during betty and jughead's black hood based breakup. this one was a request so i hope it's well received! i apologize for the wait for this update and hope you enjoy it! please leave your thoughts <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ffffff you really thought i would wait longer than one chapter in to post angst??

Jughead Jones has been in pain all his life. Most recently, the brunt of that pain had been physical. Falling off his motorcycle, running Sweet Pea’s gauntlet, or getting kicked down and jumped by Ghoulies after school are the few events that would come to mind. But he somehow thought this more manageable than the silent suffering he found himself bearing not long ago. Sometimes it was silent sobbing, or walking out at night to scream and tell his pain to go away (though it never did, not really.) The deep pit of anxiety in his stomach that just wouldn’t fuck off for days at a time felt as if it was slowly killing him.

He doesn’t think he could wish those feelings on most, not even to the likes of Reggie Mantle.

But Betty, his sweet, generous, caring Betty, had been feeling that way for weeks at a time. Pushing out the ones she loved in a feat to tame a psycho hovering over her as she made every move. To please this thrill seeking sicko in order to stop his evil.

Betty had been suffering for god knows how long and he had just been too busy to notice.

He thinks he hates that more.

After the drag race had crashed and burned, Jughead found himself with a few new bruises and a scowl on his face. Between yelling at his best friend for simply trying to help tame the situation, and then getting blamed for the fallout, he felt as if he was falling farther and farther from the person he was not long ago. The boy who thought up stories over cream doused cups of coffee, who woke up early every morning to work on his school paper, who had close friends and people who cared, like Archie and his Dad and-

Betty. It’s then he realizes that all good things, all simple things, all things carefree in his life can be attributed back to the blonde. The one who packed him an extra lunch in her bag because she knew he was struggling but too shy to say anything about it. The one who laid his head in her lap as she played with his overgrown hair after school hours. The one who encouraged him to write with her and supplied him with cups of coffee much sweeter than he would ever drink on his own.

His pride tells him to let her be and allow her to drive with Veronica back to the Pembrooke; where they’ll braid each other’s hair, paint each other’s nails, and talk about cute boys who are good and decent like Archie Andrews. Boys who are the exact opposite of a lowlife like himself.

But then he remembers the smell of her golden hair, her cherry chapstick, her sweet perfume that would drown his senses out whenever she’d pull him against her neck. He almost feels as if he’s smelling it all right now, just looking at her in the distance and allowing himself to admire her. The strappy white tank and denim shorts she’s wearing look really good on her, and he thinks the bandanna tied around her ponytail might be the cutest thing. It reminds him of his sister, and when he thinks of Jellybean and what she would say in a situation like this, he decides to stop ogling over Betty Cooper and grows a pair to walk over in her general vicinity. Which, post break up or not, is hard enough with the way she looks.

Her lips are colored a bright red and it makes her hazel green eyes stand out brighter than he remembered. Her rounded nose is flushed pink at the tip, and he begins to notice that she’s blushing all over. Her eyes have found his, her painted mouth hanging open in an adorable way that makes Jughead want her back even more.

Everything is suddenly so tense, as if their time together ended in a past life instead of in the past twenty four hours.

It’s odd to him that mere weeks ago they had shared some of the most intimate things.

_His shit show of a Birthday party had ended, and though they both did some pretty careless things, their eyes had silently forgiven one another and gave way to a different conversation. She had opened her palms to him and revealed the crescent shaped sores that were caked a dried crimson. It didn’t take long to see the same color was still fresh under her nails. He knew a coping mechanism when he saw one and that, above all else, is what he thinks pressured him to press his lips to her wounded hands while in that booth at Pop’s. He felt red hot anger at the thought of anyone driving Betty to hurt herself._

He’s sick to his stomach to wonder if he could have pushed her to it this time.

All stood still, Betty and Jughead both frozen, looking at one another as if for the very first time. He feels out of control of his words as they get stuck in his throat, his mouth opening in the slightest to try to force them out. He’d always been great with words but Betty Cooper proved to be one of the few who could reduce him to a stuttering mess.

And because Jughead has always been so scared of abandonment and rejection, he won’t move. He doesn’t even feel he has a choice. His feet will stay planted to the ground and his palms will continue to sweat because that’s just how life has left him. He’ll stay in his head and imagine curling into himself, away from the pit of anxiety that the idea of someone else’s departure gives him. He will hold hope in silence that someone else will make the first move regardless of how uncomfortable it makes things for all involved. His blue eyes will cloud, pleading silently to get her alone so everything can go back to the way it was a mere day ago.

“It’s pathetic,” he thinks.  
That he was too scared to let her leave when she’s already gone away all on her own.  
He’s lost his Mom, and his sister as a result.  
His Dad turned his back when his presence was needed most. Archie sold him out for a fucking music teacher.  
And now, Betty will leave too. Who hasn’t? Who’s left to?  
However, just like Betty showed her scars that night, Jughead had too. She knew exactly what he was doing in that moment, maybe better than he did himself, without a word. She saw his fear swallowing him whole and kicked herself, because he trusted her with that vulnerability. He may not have mutilated his own skin but he took off his knit hat and said that he felt he wasn’t good enough. That eventually, most everyone would leave, especially someone who was well off with the means to be unbothered as Betty.

_“Until you’re sick of slumming it with me? Or until Archie decides he wants to be with you?”_

That night, and many days later, those words continued to anger her. They seared into her flesh in ways her own nails never had.

And she had just proved those infuriating words right. She left Jughead and brought upon him the fear he openly trusted her with.

_“Betty? You did the one thing that could actually hurt me.”_

She felt her bottom lip tremble and her eyes well up with the telltale weight of hot, heavy tears.

And suddenly, Jughead’s feet leave the ground as he watches the golden green get washed over with what may as well be his own mistakes. Betty meets him in the middle and they all but melt into one another. It’s pathetic, and probably is an overreaction even given the circumstances. But Jughead gives zero fucks whatsoever as he shakes with the release of anxiety against Betty’s shoulder and neck. Where he drowns in the sweet perfume and hairspray that engulfs him there.

He begins to talk as if he’s just learning how, pulling his wet cheeks from her soft skin.  
“Betts, I- I don’t know where to-” she cuts him off with a shush, only pulling him back into her and carding her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. She’d more than once been the one to take care of him, showing an affection that bordered on motherly, and now more so than ever he allows it without guilt.

His own Mom doesn’t seem to want him. And if Betty Cooper has to be the one to yell at him and keep him in order, he thinks he’ll be just fine with that. For now, the thought can be tabled, because he is preoccupied with burying his nose deeper into all that she is.

So sharp in contrast to Toni Topaz, who’s scent of cigarettes and body spray had been nothing short of all over him last night. It will never give the same warmth in his chest that he feels right now, the gasoline of the car Betty fixed dulling what is usually her sweet scent. But it is Betty, and it is home, and he just dives in deeper and smiles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It is the next morning they wake up, after a long night and a long conversation. It had started with what most things usually have to, an argument (though this one was much more civil and honest) both of them coiling back into themselves while trying to open the other one up. It proved to be very ineffective early on, and after laying every dirty detail bare they came to an agreement. That Riverdale would always be unsafe and distancing themselves from each other wouldn’t change a thing in regards to safety for either of them. If anything, it made things harder and got rid of the little hope either of them had left.

Later they sit with legs thrown over one another on FP’s couch, sharing food and feeding one another jokingly as to mock Veronica and Archie’s PDA. They laugh until they’re both red in the face and the sound is contagious to the both of them. Betty at one point takes his flannel that had been tied around his waist and says she’s going to keep it because she missed his scent.

“It might make me sound weird, and possibly like a crazy clingy girlfriend, but I just- I just want to have it for the nights I can’t have you there with me. You make me feel safe, Jug.” Her blush is high on her cheeks as she plays with the golden tendrils framing her face. Jughead steps closer a tugs at the neckline of her sweater.

“Only if I get this. I’ll give you something to sleep in for tonight but I just need-”

“I know, Juggie. Trust me. I do.” She beamed at him, pulling on the sleeves of his flannel and then pulling her lips up level with his ear, whispering some sweet words that he’ll detest in the moment but probably needs to hear.

She asks to go shower and in the time that the warm smell of her soap and her melodic humming travels with the steam throughout the trailer, Jughead watches Forensic Files on the TV and smiles at the small reminders of her he has even while she’s not right by his side.

She comes out with water drops falling from strands of hair, dampened from the shower and hanging wet around her shoulders. She’s taken the liberty of grabbing some shorts and one of his S t-shirts, and with her clean warm skin and freshly scrubbed face, this is where he might like her most. (Which is the dumbest question to ask himself anyway, because any version of Betty Cooper qualifies as nothing short of his dream girl.) She smiles one of her sweet yet mischievous smiles, as she knows exactly what she does to him. Jughead’s glad she’s aware herself, because he doubts it’s possible for him to put it into words and tell her.

He’s already changed and she kisses him on the cheek before turning the TV off herself and grabbing him by his hand to FP’s room.

“Your room is nice too, Jug. I’d just rather sleep without a poster of Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction staring at me. I’ll admit, I felt a little cheated when I saw it.” She says the words jokingly but Jughead feel his skin heat up at the teasing and gives an awkward, crooked smile.

“Oops?” he says through a chuckle.

She leans up to kiss his tinted cheek, and the smell of her soap is overwhelming. But it’s still safe, and as the get into bed, he cuddles in as close as he can to feel all of it against him.


	3. into your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the lost weekend but make it as fluffy as we deserved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave requests!!!

Last night had been a shitshow, as well as Jughead’s worst nightmare. A large social gathering in which he was the guest of honor?

Disgusting.

Most of it had been categorized as a blur in his mind, one of bright lights and sweaty hormonal bodies (which he thought he got enough of from his dreaded and usually skipped P.E. classes). Going to hide and brood by the food gave him a front row seat of Cheryl whipping her long red hair whilst dry humping Moose (both of which looked like they were suppressing some sexual demons). He really could have gone the rest of his life without seeing that. Archie and Veronica were both clearly intoxicated, and without Betty in his direct sight he bolted to the garage to sit with Vegas. Jughead couldn’t help but think the dog was in possession of more brain cells than the agents of chaos poorly grinding on one another in the living room. The loud thrumming of his pulse in his ears was being overpowered by the bass of whatever shitty song was playing now. 

“Happy birthday to me,” he thought bitterly. 

Somewhere along the course of events, Archie walked into his safe haven in a drunken stupor, rambling about all the ways Jughead’s life would change with his new girlfriend. All while Jughead didn't understand what said word entailed. 

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re getting a birthday party whether you want one or not!”

Shortly after Betty walked in looking dishevelled and distressed, (to which he assumed was by the likes of Chuck Clayton) they began to talk things out. Hurt and self doubt were still harbored on his part about the fact that she point blank told him to change. Bitterly.

“Why is everything so doom and gloom with you Jug? Why can’t you just be normal for once?”

Safe to say one said things to the other that were either angst fueled or simply not true. In Jughead’s case, both. 

He definitely made some remarks he wasn’t proud of, words he regretted the moment they left his mouth. That regret turned into self loathing once Betty’s doe eyes welled up with tears, gathering on her lashes but refusing to fall.  
He had hurt her. Which already made him feel like the shittiest person ever. 

She walked away and every cell in his body screamed to run after her, fix his ever present mistake and apologize; wipe those tears from her sad eyes and do something- anything. But his feet stayed put, and once again another joyous and important part of his life was leaving him. Just great. 

It is only after pulling a right hook on Chuck Clayton does he find himself in a booth at Pop’s. He’s looking up at Betty with a plea for a second chance, because he can’t believe he was so careless with the only thing keeping him sane. She also feels guilty, sickeningly so, over the mistakes and flaws of the night. Because in the pursuit of trying to be the perfect girlfriend, she wrecked a day that was already a sore spot for her boyfriend. Her choked up voice becomes the most haunting thing to Jughead- because it’s his fault- on top of Chuck and all the other assholes that were to blame, so was he. 

“We’re on borrowed time.”

“I am not one of your projects!”

What the hell was he thinking?

She started talking about how she, on the other hand, probably should have respected his constant pleas to just not have a birthday party in the first place. That had definitely become the least of his worries.

And then he asks her why.  
Why she pushed herself to her wits end organizing and planning some surprise party when she knew that he didn’t want it. 

She pauses and her eyes get wide, skin paling impossibly more underneath the red glow of the diner. He can see the rise and fall of her chest, watching her take in a breath and shakily exhale. 

Her voice is wavering as she speaks, “Something is very, very wrong with me. Like, there’s this darkness inside me that’s overwhelming sometimes. And I don’t know where it comes from, but I think it’s what makes me do all these crazy things, like…” she trails off. Betty opens her palms and raises them up, revealing wounds that look freshly reopened, yet aged underneath the fresh blood. “Her nails,” he thinks. He looks and see they line up perfectly with the curl of her fingers. The fact that the world had put so much pressure on her to force a reaction like this makes Jughead feel useless. 

He can guess that initially Alice Cooper and her family were the ones forcing Betty’s hand, pushing her to a point where she scarred herself over the expectations they had of her.  
Cheryl probably hurt her.  
Chuck? Unquestionably.  
And now Jughead is sitting, eyes growing glassy just staring at the angry red sores, because he probably caused it this time. 

He can’t talk. If he talks he will cry and he doesn’t deserve to do that when everything bad about tonight is entirely his fault. He feels sobs pushing forcefully against his chest, and it makes him feel all the more inadequate. He hurts his girlfriend, she hurts herself, and then he cries because he can’t handle it?

Just another reason why he’s not good enough. 

So instead he gingerly takes her hands, pressing them both within his own, and kisses her scars. He closes his eyes and is able to keep his tears at bay. When he opens them, Betty is looking down at him like he’s just the best thing, pushing closer to kiss his split lip.

The anxious swirl that had previously inhabited his stomach is replaced with something much more pleasant. It’s warm and fluttery, and the tortured poet side of himself is disgusted that he’s even having these thoughts. But for Betty Cooper, he can make an exception. He loves her; and it’s such a sudden yet sure thought. An epiphany that washes through him and leaves him with that indescribable feeling. He won’t tell her, not right now, not when her palms are crimson and her eyes are glassy. But one day he’ll let her know that despite the demanding nature of everyone around her, she’s more than enough for him.

Later that night, Betty and Jughead both haul one another up the ladder resting against her bedroom window. As he stumbles into her room, he looks to her nightstand and the heart window picture frame she has there. He can remember it from her fifth grade year, when she brought it up to his treehouse and showed him the picture of Archie that was enclosed in the glass. 

Now it’s a picture of him. 

He suddenly feels unbelievably lucky. When he turns around, he sees Betty pulling off her shoes and falling back onto her bed, body going limp. She pulls on her ponytail, slipping off the tightly wrapped elastic and relieving herself of the tension it held. 

She shifts her body to meet his eyes, giving him a less than shy smile.  
“Are you just gonna stand there?”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice. He climbs over her bed frame to lay by her, discarding his stiff jacket and shoes along the way. As soon as he falls between the sheets, Betty wraps herself around him desperately, trying to get a close as possible. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek, threading her fingers through his hair and knocking off his beanie in the process. 

He brings his arms down to her lower back, resting them around there and bringing his face into her neck. She stretches herself up to reach the crown of his head, resting her cheek on it. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt so content, and it brings a small smile to his face that Betty pulls back to see. She stares at him with a questioning gaze, harboring a small smirk of amusement.

“What? Is it illegal to smile?” he jokes, his sardonic nature taking over the sweet moment.

“Your smile is a rarity, and is anything but illegal,” she says back softly, moving her thumb across the cut on his cheek. He goes quiet at that, averting his gaze down to their intertwined legs.

”Juggie? What is it?” 

He feels the guilt again. The guilt of screwing up and her being the one to take care of him. He doesn’t deserve it and she deserves better and it’s all a situation just waiting to collapse-

“Juggie!” she says in a hushed whisper, fingers brushing away tears under his eyes that he didn’t even realize were there. She pulls him back down, his ear level with her lips as she starts to say everything he needs to hear.

“You don’t need to feel bad. We made mistakes. You made a mistake and it doesn’t make you a fuck-up or inadequate or not good enough. It makes you human. I love you Juggie, so don’t push me out and do this by yourself.” 

She pushes him back the slightest bit with her arms to look at his face, cut up and tear stained a beautiful. 

“Ok?” she asks in a hushed whisper.  
“Yeah. Okay” he replies with a small smile. 

They fall asleep that night in a pile of tangled limbs, sweet serene smiles on their faces. Jughead wakes up at an unfairly early alarm, wishing to stay in the arms of Betty Cooper for much longer than the few hours he got. But the demonic wrath of Alice Cooper is something he doesn’t want to face and possibly meet his end by. 

He opens the window to slip out of it, the early morning sky so dark that he wonders if any time passed while he was with her at all. 

He wishes it hadn’t.

He pressed a kiss on Betty’s forehead before climbing down the ladder, a smile on his face as he crosses to the Andrews.


	4. i was just falling (in love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /set post first kiss in 1.06/ short drabble of betty's awakening to the fact that it's always been jughead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short but i love the "new love" and"honeymoon phase" shit and always find it sweet to write. im sure you can tell i was in desperate need of seratonin.

Betty lives in small town New York, which means brutal winds and icy rain are expectations of early fall. But as she trudges through it, trying to reach her destination, she can’t help but feel taken off guard at just how cold she is. Her entire body shakes with shivers as she redirects her flashlight, trying to make out “the car” she had heard her sister rambling about. Her fingertips are rosy, and she thinks she’s losing feeling in them. 

She whips her head to the side, her rain soaked ponytail brushing against her neck. Her eyes meet Jughead’s, the boy who had less than an hour ago climbed up her window and pressed his lips against her own. 

She starts to think about that, and suddenly she’s not so cold. Her glassy green eyes meet the dark blue of his, and though it couldn’t be less fitting for a rain soaked murder solving expedition, she feels her stomach flutter. She had only just kissed him, but it’s like that small taste of intimacy woke her up to the idea that she likes Jughead Jones. She thinks she’s liked him for longer than her brain had initially caught up with. 

She wants to scold herself for letting her brain be flooded with something so “trivial” during matters so serious, but she decides to not be so hard on herself. The ingrained nagging of Alice Cooper can be ignored for the moment. She allows herself a glance at Jughead, and the sight of his profile dripping rain makes her knees a bit weak. It makes her wonder why she ever dismissed Jughead, how her heart is just now fluttering at the sight of him.

He’s always been attractive- definitely in different ways in comparison to Archie. Betty would cite Archie as a traditionally handsome jock, tanned skin and strong muscle with an “All-American” smile. Jughead was paler and thinner, and definitely less “tough and rough” than Archie. His smile was less ever present, but Betty had come to find that its rarity only made it more beautiful to her. His bright eyes and long rain soaked lashes had her breath fanning in uneven clouds in front of her rosy face. His overgrown black hair was dripping into his eyes, and the beautiful sight of him was suddenly hitting her all at once. She felt like an idiot to have ignored it this long. 

His voice cuts through her inner thoughts, and does nothing to stop the racing of her heart. “Betts. You doing good? I know this must be a lot.” His eyes soften as he speaks, and his hand comes to rest softly on the tense muscles of her shoulder. The care of the gesture makes her heart twinge in her chest and she smiles adoringly at him, nodding and assuring him she’s good. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever been better.


End file.
